


Good Boy

by Scrunchles



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Krampus Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, M/M, Praise Kink, unnecessary drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21875428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrunchles/pseuds/Scrunchles
Summary: “How long could we have been doing this?” Krampus asks, resting his head on Mako’s shoulder.“A few years at least,” Mako replies.  “Maybe seven.”“Fuck,” Krampus snarls, dragging himself closer and using his tail to pull one of Mako’s arms further around him.Mako laughs and wraps both arms firmly around Krampus.  “Idiot,” he says, fondness clear in his voice.“Yeah,” Krampus agrees.
Relationships: Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes/Roadhog | Mako Rutledge
Comments: 7
Kudos: 124





	Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArmsShanks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArmsShanks/gifts).



> Shanks asked for a Krampus a few months ago and I wanted to wait until the right season to post it. Thanks for all your support and love over the years, Shanks and a Merry Christmas to you <3

Punishment is his life. His entire existence centers around people believing in him and fearing his wrath. He’s just a whisper in the European spring, summer and fall. His strength and his joy cycles around the dry crackle of too-cold birch; the painfully cold nights when shutters are drawn—but he’s able to slip through the cracks because some grandmother is telling young babes about the mean, the bad, the unsightly and the absolutely _foul_ Krampus.

He scares children. He scares women. He even scares big, burly men— but he doesn’t scare Mako Rutledge.

“Don’t do that,” Mako growls at Krampus. Krampus stops drawing on Mako’s belly with his nails and smiles innocently as the drawing of a cartoonish cock welts up.

“It’s fun,” Krampus says, kissing the red lines. “I know your pain tolerance is better than that.”

“It’s summer where I live,” Mako says. “Don’t want to have to wear a shirt when I go back.”

Krampus scrapes his sharp teeth across Mako’s belly and a hand grabs him by the back of the neck and drags him up so that they’re face to face. Krampus grins, all sharp teeth, green glowing eyes and glee.

“You’re an asshole,” Mako says, leaning in close, tempting Krampus with a kiss he doesn’t get before laying him across Mako’s thighs.

Krampus giggles and wraps his tail around Mako’s arm eagerly. “Gonna spank me? Tell me how naughty I’ve been?” he asks.

Mako snorts. “You know what you did,” he says. “You tell me how bad you are.”

Krampus bites his bottom lip and squirms to press his ass back against Mako’s hand when he rubs it in preparation for a hit. “I flipped a couple of cat bowls over,” he says, starting with his more tame mischief. Mako swats him hard and it hurts so good. “Left the milk out of a fridge.”

_Whack_! “Such a shit,” Mako rumbles.

“Mmm… put pornhub up on the communal computer of a college dorm.”

_Whack_! “Deviant.”

“Spread legos across the floor… right in front of the parents room.”

_Whack_! “Worse than I thought.”

Krampus’s toes curl and he shivers. “Want you to fuck me,” he whines.

_Whack_!

“Mako!” Krampus shouts, grabbing his leg and digging his sharp claws in.

Mako’s hand pauses and he grabs Krampus’s ass through his pants. “When was the last time you washed these?”

“A century,” Krampus says.

“Disgusting,” Mako growls and it sends another shiver through Krampus. “Take them off.”

Krampus lets go of Mako’s leg, his dark claws rudy with blood as he wiggles around in Mako’s lap to shove his pants down. He’s hard and Mako takes hold of his cock as soon as it’s bare, squeezing hard until Krampus’s hips hitch.

“So depraved,” Mako says, releasing the tension and jerking Krampus.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Squeeze me again.”

Mako does so and chuckles when Krampus crosses his eyes and bites his lip.

“Miss you during the off-season,” Mako says, loosening his grip and jerking Krampus again lightly.

“What?” Krampus asks, furrowing his brow and looking up at Mako’s face instead of his massive hand around Krampus’s cock.

“You’re a vicious piece of shit,” Mako tells him and he relaxes. That tracks. Krampus smirks and bucks his hips at the demeaning words as Mako tightens his hand again. “But you’re the best fuck I’ve had.”

Krampus comes before he’s ready. He usually lasts a bit longer, scratches Mako up a bit more, but something—something warm and liquid spreads through him. Krampus hears Mako degrade him for coming early and he comes back down to earth when slick fingers press against his hole.

Krampus clings to the words, repeating them like a mantra.

_“Miss you.”_

_“The best fuck.”_

_“The best.”_

——

The first heavy snow falls and Krampus awakens for another year. He can feel Mako on the other side of the world. He’s in the back of his mind. Not like he’s in the back of the minds of the people he tortures every year. Mako thinks of him on lonely nights when he can’t sleep. Mako wants him.

He goes through the motions: pisses on stoops and lets it freeze, knocks over trash cans and opens gates. He puts spiders in boots and slices holes in jacket linings, plants uneasy dreams and waits, waits, waits for Mako to come.

When he finally feels him close enough, he blinks to him, follows him through the airport, invisible but not quiet.

_The best_. He switches two people’s bags.

_The best_. He uses his tail to flip a trash can.

_The best._ He turns all the “no vacancy” lights off on the line of cabs, causing a surge of people and so, so many awkward conversations.

He follows Mako to his rented truck and pops into the passenger seat, sprawling as soon as Mako gets in, putting his feet on the passenger window and his head in Mako’s lap.

“Miss me?” He prompts, grinning when Mako doesn’t jump at his sudden appearance.

Mako snorts and pulls Krampus out of his lap, pushes him toward the passenger side of the truck. “You wish.”

Krampus’s pointed ears fall a little and his lips form a pout. He feels… disappointment. Rejection. _Hurt_.

Mako glances over at him with a raised brow when he’s silent for more than ten seconds. “What? Not going to tell me about all the trouble you’ve been causing?” he asks.

Krampus disappears, poofing to the nearest residence and letting the dog out of the yard. A story is being told about him a block over, so he pops in to listen about how terrible he is. How they should be afraid and act good to avoid him. He puts snow in the grandmother’s boots for a later disappointment and then hides the worst of the two kids favorite warm socks in a dark corner. She won’t find them until summertime three years from now and after she’s outgrown them.

He flits from house to house, causing mischief and gaining no joy from it. He plays the same trick five times in a row before he quits and goes to sleep in a well-made bed of someone away for the weekend. He tracks soot and dirt all over the sheets, rolls around and tries to get comfortable.

_Miss you._

He’s used it so often to relax over the past year that it’s automatic. He repeats it now, trying to forget their interaction earlier, but he can’t. He leaves a window open when he flits to the cabin that Mako rents every year, overlooking a lake. The man himself sits out on the thick ice, perched on a tiny chair and bowed over a fishing pole.

Krampus considers weakening the ice, putting out the warm fire in the cabin’s stove, removing the chink from the northern wall so that when the next blizzard blows through, Mako feels the cold, vicious winds of betrayal—

“I know you’re there,” Mako rumbles.

Krampus blinks to sit across from Mako on the ice, his nails anchoring him on the slick surface.

They sit in silence and then Mako pulls his line in. He stands with a low groan, rubbing his back and then he carefully starts moving back across the lake to the cabin. “Come on,” he says.

Krampus follows at a distance, focusing on the shitty things he could do instead of the ice cold ache in his chest. He doesn’t like it and wants it to go away. He’s never felt anything like it before. It’s the antithesis of the warmth he’s felt all year long. He doesn’t know how to make it go away.

Mako leads him inside and the happy sigh he lets out when he enters the warmth of the cabin makes Krampus glad that he didn’t put the fire out. It chips away at the cold feeling in his chest and Krampus watches Mako intently as he unbundles, taking in the way his thick shoulders move beneath the layers and his fingers deftly undo buttons that seem too small for them.

“Stop being so quiet,” Mako tells him.

“I don’t wanna talk,” Krampus replies.

“You always want to talk.”

Krampus shrugs and goes invisible just to keep Mako from staring at him like that.

Mako snorts and grumbles, “fucking typical,” as he turns away.

”I missed you!” Krampus hisses, poofing back into view in front of Mako and bristling at having to admit it.

Mako raises a brow and his eyes bounce up to Krampus’s hair. Krampus pats it back down and then crosses his arms.

“I missed you too,” Mako says, clearly unsure where this is going.

“You said you didn’t,” Krampus points out.

Mako snorts and walks over to the well-worn couch. It’s meant for three people but with Mako’s size, it’s just enough for Mako and Krampus to curl up on—or for Krampus to lounge across Mako’s lap and be “punished.” Krampus follows him and sits, keeping space between them.

“I was joking,” Mako says.

“Why?”

Mako shrugs. “Because I’m an emotionally stunted old man.”

Krampus scoffs like he does every time Mako calls himself old. Then, he wiggles the tufted tip of his tail against Mako’s neck in an attempt to get him to grab it. He’s bored of being angry. Punishment and sex might completely erase the ache from his chest.

Mako grabs his tail and uses it to drag Krampus into his lap. Krampus giggles and allows it. It hurts so good, it’s perfect everything is normal and—

And then Mako pets his hand through Krampus’s hair and he feels his cold heart stutter... right before it takes a handful and yanks. Krampus grabs Mako’s hand and twists it out of his hair before leaping from Mako’s lap and landing near the hot stove.

“What the fuck?” Mako growls, flexing his wrist and furrowing his brows at Krampus.

“Pet me again,” Krampus demands, though he doesn’t move forward.

“What the—“

Krampus darts forward and grabs Mako’s hand, pulls it up to his face with a firm grip and then lightly presses his bearded cheek to it. “Pet me,” he repeats. “Softly.”

Mako raises a brow at Krampus and then curls his cold fingers to ruffle Krampus’s sideburn with his fingertips, then he strokes his palm across Krampus’s jaw, following his beard down and then bringing it back up to gently pull him closer.

Krampus steps forward, nearly tripping it takes so much effort to go as slow as he needs. He’s always jumping, leaping, running, diving into Mako and getting dragged around by the back of his neck or his limbs. Moving one foot after the other until he’s standing between Mako’s legs is torture, but it’s a gentle kind of torture Krampus hasn’t ever felt before. It warms his heart and makes him want more.

Krampus lets out a gleeful noise as Mako rubs his hand up into Krampus’s hair, making a face at the texture. Krampus absolutely forgets that Mako’s disgusted by his gritty, coarse hair as soon as Mako’s careful fingertips find the base of one of his horns.

“Yes…” he hisses. Krampus is only tangentially aware of leaning into the contact. Mako takes the cue and gently rubs where skin meets keratin. He doesn’t remember climbing into Mako’s lap, but when Mako stops massaging his horns, Krampus comes to sprawling across Mako’s belly with his knees on either side of the big man’s hips.

“Where did this all come from?” Mako asks.

Krampus grabs Mako’s hand and moves it back to his horn. “Feels so good, keep going,” Krampus says instead.

Mako pulls his hand back and snorts. “Answer my question first. We’ve been fucking for nearly ten years, I deserve an answer.”

Krampus whines and grabs the collar of Mako’s fleece jacket. “I... don't know, mate. You said you miss me last year and that— that I was the best fuck you ever had and I… I liked it. No one’s ever said anything good about me. No one. Always ‘Krampus is old and ugly,’ or ‘Krampus is mean...’ “

“You are mean,” Mako points out.

“Not all the time! Just… most of the time. I’m hardwired to be a cunt, but when I’m with you, I…” he swallows thickly and stares at Mako with wide green eyes. “I want you… to be nice to me.”

“I’m not nice,” Mako says flatly.

“Yeah,” Krampus says, then motions to his horns. “But you can be.”

Mako sighs and rests his hands on Krampus’s shoulders. “If I’m going to be nice to you, we’re both going to need a bath.”

Krampus grins widely and hops up. “Sure! Love baths, take ‘em all the time!”

Mako snorts and stands slowly from the couch, cracking his back once he’s up. “Sure you do,” he agrees before leading Krampus to the bathroom.

He leaves Krampus alone with a tub of hot water and it takes half an hour before Mako comes to investigate whether Krampus has finished. Which he has not—because he’s not sure where to start. Mako rolls his eyes and refreshes the hot water before he strips down and demonstrates, getting in and settling down in the big tub. Water sloshes over the edges as he shifts around to get comfortable. Krampus removes his clothes and as he reaches for his prostheses, Mako offers him a hand. Krampus grins and holds onto Mako’s hand as he magicks his leg away and then his arm.

“That was weird,” Mako rumbles as he steadies Krampus’s careful descent into the tub.

Krampus’s head whips around at the negativity in the phrase, but Mako gives his hand a squeeze. Not a painful one, just a careful, gentle thing. Krampus feels his heart warm further and he wonders if he should be concerned. He’s never felt like this before, maybe he’s dying.

If he is, he’s okay with it.

Maybe that should be more concerning.

Mako scoops water over Krampus’s head and then picks up a bottle and squirts it into Krampus’s hair. “Close your eyes,” he says gruffly.

Krampus does as he’s told and Mako starts working something through his thick, coarse hair. He purrs as Mako’s fingers massage all the way down to his scalp, gentle and careful and it feels so good. He nearly blacks out when Mako washes his horns and works the bases of them until they’re squeaky clean.

He hears a gurgle and raises his head from resting on the top of Mako’s belly to see that Mako is draining some of the water from the tub and that it’s positively filthy. “Oops,” he titters, letting his head rest on Mako’s big belly again. He’s so comfortable, so warm.

Mako runs more water and Krampus feels the remaining tension drain out of the human as he relaxes into the bath. One of Mako’s hands comes up to pet Krampus’s hair again and Krampus retracts his nails before he searches out Mako’s cock beneath the water.

“You could do that the whole time?” Mako rumbles, tightening his hand in Krampus’s hair but then smoothing it out gently.

“It was part of the whole… pain thing,” Krampus admits, stroking Mako’s cock and feeling it become firm and grow in his hand.

“... it’s nice,” Mako says.

Krampus quickens his hand with a soft laugh and turns his head to stare up at Mako with his chin on his belly. “You like me like this too?” he asks.

Mako snorts and leans forward to kiss Krampus. Krampus bites his lip out of habit, but Mako keeps the kiss soft and Krampus lets it stay slow and it borders on sweet before Mako pulls away. “I like to hurt you and call you names, but this is nice too,” he admits.

Krampus smiles and releases Mako’s cock to wrap his arms around Mako and kiss him deeply. Mako pets him, running his hands up and down Krampus’s bony back and shifting his hips up against the cleft of Krampus’s ass. Krampus presses his hips against Mako’s gut in slow, eager pushes. It’s weird to not be swept up in a whirlwind of pain, welts and vicious words or chasing release in bites and bruises.

Mako shifts to drain the tub again and when he drapes a fluffy towel around Krampus, he jerks in surprise. “Relax,” Mako tells him.

Krampus warily does so, allowing himself to be bundled into a towel, wrapped up tightly and then lifted once Mako stands. He carries him to the bedroom and sweeps the bdsm toys laid out on the bed onto the floor. Mako lays Krampus down and draws the covers up over them before shifting closer and resuming the warm, soft kiss from before.

Krampus melts into it and revels in the petting hands, gentle and warm— “We’re not just going to bed, are we?” Krampus asks, breaking the kiss and pouting at Mako.

Mako snorts and kisses Krampus’s pout. “We don’t have to,” he tells him. “It’s just under here we have a pocket of warmth to fuck in.”

Krampus screws his face up. “Is that still what this is?”

“What?”

“Fucking,” Krampus points out.

Mako huffs and shrugs. “Want to call it ‘making love?’ “ he asks.

Maybe.

Krampus shrugs noncommittally and Mako smirks. “What?” Krampus asks, bristling defensively.

“You want to make love to me?” Mako teases, running his hands slowly up and down Krampus’s back and sides. It sends a shiver through him and he stares up at Mako helplessly as he realizes that that’s what he wants. He doesn’t want to be the best fuck, he wants to be the best love.

Love.

“Yes,” Krampus finally chokes out. “I want to do that.”

Mako raises a brow at him and stops teasing for a moment to consider him seriously.

“And I want you to tell me I’m good and say nice things,” Krampus says.

“Is that all?” Mako asks, leaning in to press their foreheads together. Krampus usually headbutts him when they’re like this, then shoves his tongue into his mouth and tackles him onto the floor.

Krampus nods minutely, too warm and happy and finally getting what he’s wanted all year.

“Tell me what a good boy you’ve been,” Mako says before pressing a kiss to Krampus’s mouth, then his cheek and jaw.

“I… haven’t killed anyone this year?” he tries.

“Good boy,” Mako rumbles, sliding his hands around to cup Krampus’s ass, his grip tender rather than grabbing

“I met you at the airport.”

“A sweet gesture,” Mako says. He leans over Krampus to get the lube and is careful not to crush him with his weight. It’s usually a welcome intention, but now it’s sorely appreciated as Krampus finds himself reveling in this new dynamic. He’s sweet. “What else?” Mako asks as he squeezes lube out onto his fingers and then carefully presses one—one— against Krampus’s entrance while kissing his neck.

Okay, okay, he met him at the airport—don’t think about the disappointment earlier— “Didn’t kill you’re brakes when I was mad,” Krampus points out.

Mako stops fingering Krampus and then clears his throat and resumes thrusting his finger slowly in and out of Krampus. “Thank you. That was very... good.”

Krampus smiles and nestles against Mako. He _is_ good. “I missed you,” he murmurs. “I do usually but this time it was more.”

Mako hums and slides his finger deeper until he brushes Krampus’s prostate. “What a good boy,” he says as Krampus groans and thrusts his hard cock against Mako’s belly as the human continues to finger Krampus. “A good, sweet boy who missed me.”

Krampus mewls and grasps Mako’s shoulder hard, his claws are still retracted but his fingers dig hard into Mako’s thick muscle. “More,” he groans.

“I like it when you beg,” Mako rumbles, sliding his finger faster, deeper, twisting it inside Krampus until he comes against Mako’s belly with a low, choked off whine as Mako keeps murmuring soft, endearing words against his ear.

Krampus shivers and allows himself to be maneuvered as Mako rolls him over to lie on his stomach and then shifts above Krampus to press against him. “Good boys ask for it,” Mako murmurs, petting his hands up and down Krampus’s sides and hips.

“Make love to me?” Krampus asks.

“Good,” Mako replies before pressing into Krampus.

“Yes…” Krampus hisses. “Feels good.” It’s hard not to say the things he usually does— begging to be used and abused or yelling “harder” until Mako nearly breaks the bed from the force of it all. Mako gets a good rhythm, shallowly working his way in, taking his time. “Feels so good, Mako,” Krampus groans. “Wanna be good for you. Wanna be so good all the time…”

As Mako gets closer, his breathing gets heavier. He occasionally murmurs praise, but he seems mostly focused on keeping his weight from pressing Krampus into the bed, keeping his thrusts gentle and slow and petting Krampus.

“Mako…” Krampus moans, feeling spoiled for the first time in his life. Mako is the best. Krampus already knew that but he didn’t _know_. Not like this.

“Yes, good boy?” Mako grunts, beginning to quicken his hips.

“You’re the best,” he tells him. “And not just ‘cause you’re fucking me, but because—“ no one’s ever listened to him before. No one’s ever considered what he wanted. His entire relationship with Mako was built off of a misunderstanding— a hot, heavy, angry misunderstanding that brings Mako back to this same cabin year after year— and all he had to do was ask for more to get it.

“Because?” Mako asks, slowing his thrusts again and rubbing Krampus’s back.

“Because you care,” Krampus admits, his chest swelling with emotion and warmth.

Mako is silent and Krampus suddenly wonders if he was wrong, if he made the assumption that Mako cares because he’s in the process of humoring him. “Iffff I’m wrong, that’s fine. If you’re not looking for an immortal flame who would watch you grow old and die and not be able to do anything about it, that’s fine…

“Wellllll technically I could die if all humans stopped believing in me but with the human penchant for telling and retelling stories and eagerness to suspend disbelief I—“ Krampus’s words are muffled by Mako putting his hand across his mouth.

“Starting to get into shit I _don’t_ care about,” Mako tells him before drawing away long enough to flip Krampus over and pulling his legs up around his belly to nudge his way back in.

Krampus laughs and shrugs helplessly as Mako stares down at him. “Don’t care about magic bullshit,” he tells Krampus. “Just what you want from me.”

It feels good. It feels so, so good. Mako moving inside him and telling him he cares.

“Care about you too,” Krampus groans, squeezing his legs around Mako’s hips and stretching his arms up, laying himself out beneath Mako.

“Good boy,” Mako breathes as he moves faster. “Good… so good.”

Krampus feels Mako finish rather than hears him and he clings to him as Mako rolls them to lie on their sides. It’s so weird to cuddle instead of Mako shoving him off the bed and telling him to sleep on the couch, but maybe that’s what they got used to. It was just what they did.

“How long could we have been doing this?” Krampus asks, resting his head on Mako’s shoulder.

“A few years at least,” Mako replies. “Maybe seven.”

“Fuck,” Krampus snarls, dragging himself closer and using his tail to pull one of Mako’s arms further around him.

Mako laughs and wraps both arms firmly around Krampus. “Idiot,” he says, fondness clear in his voice.

“Yeah,” Krampus agrees.

The rest of the winter is overall spent sweetly. Occasionally, Mako gets pissed at him and call him something shitty, but it’s always with a modicum of warmth. They return to their old ways often, leaving each other bruised and bitten, but overall satisfied and falling asleep in each other's arms on cold nights. Krampus feels the pull of stories being told in the towns around them, but the strongest thread tells him he’s a good boy and as soon as Mako wakes up, whether Krampus is in the middle of a trick or a hundred miles away, he pops back so that he can kiss Mako and tell him at least one good thing he did while he slept.


End file.
